Sweet Surrender  The Story of Uwe & Desiree
by DeborahKLA
Summary: Spin-off from These Eyes So Green about the romance between Desiree Mendelsohn, a member of the French Resistance who has been caught smuggling and sent to a concentration camp and SS-Oberscharführer Uwe Dichter, a camp guard. WARNING: NC-17 BDSM, Sex


**Sweet Surrender – The Story of Uwe & Desiree**

**(A spin-off fic from **_**These Eyes So Green**_**)**

_WARNING: Rated NC-17 for some BDSM and explicit sexual content involving a Nazi SS NCO. DO NOT READ THIS STORY IF YOU BELIEVE YOU MIGHT BE OFFENDED BY ANY PART OF IT. YOU HAVE BEEN DULY WARNED._

_This is a spin-off from my long-running _Inglourious Basterds_ fanfic_, These Eyes So Green_, which will be drawing to a conclusion after two more chapters. It's not necessary to read that fic to enjoy this one, which takes place before it. This story focuses exclusively on two of the characters I created for that fic: Desiree Mendelsohn, a member of the French Resistance who has been caught smuggling and sent to a concentration camp; and SS-Oberscharführer Uwe Dichter, the guard who becomes her lover. An SS-Oberscharführer was basically a squad leader on the level of a Feldwebel who reported to a non-commissioned officer. Originally it was a rank within the SA. After the SS Field Grey service uniform was introduced in 1938, all SS- Oberscharführers wore the insignia of a Wehrmacht Feldwebel (the equivalent of a US Army or Marine Staff Sergeant or a British Sergeant.)_

_This is basically the complete story of Uwe & Desiree, and therefore features a couple sections from _TESG at both the beginning and end_, so those familiar with that fic will recognize those sections. I've beefed it up in the middle with a couple of additional erotic encounters. Incidentally, if you were wondering if relationships actually developed between guards and prisoners, this story is very loosely based on the story of Helena Citronova, a Jewish prisoner of Auschwitz and Franz Wunsch, one of the SS guards who supervised Canada, the large sorting barracks there. Wunsch fell in love with Helena and helped her and her sister to survive, and years later she testified on his behalf at his trial._

_This story is dedicated to Machiavelli_Imp, who was the first to suggest that I further explore Desiree's relationship with Uwe in _These Eyes So Green_. It's also a tribute to this extraordinarily intelligent and perceptive young woman, who continues to leave insightful reviews, commentary and suggestions that I have found exceptionally useful. I have tremendous respect for her judgment, and I continue to be grateful for and treasure her friendship and support. _

He had been shouting at a group of prisoners when Desiree first saw Uwe, urging them forward with a few sharp snaps of the riding crop he always carried. He was tall, blonde, handsome. His icy blue eyes caught hers, held them, and a curious, quizzical look crossed his face.

"Bring them here," he told the woman guard that was escorting Desiree's group. "I need two women in Canada."

"But Oberscharführer Dichter, these were assigned to me…" the woman stuttered.

"_Bring them here!"_ he shouted.

The woman guard scurried to bring the group of ten women forward, and soon they were standing at attention before him. It was bitterly cold, and they tried to stand as closely to each other as they could. Uwe blew on his gloved hands as he surveyed the group, his eyes flickering back to Desiree repeatedly. Finally, he pointed to a blonde woman at the other end of the line: "du," and to Desiree: "du."

"You two are very fortunate," he told them in perfect French. "You will be working with me. You'll have relatively easy duties, a little more food. And you will do exactly as I tell you. Especially when you see what happens to those who don't."

He took the two of them to Canada, the large barracks full of the belongings of the dead, and set them to work sorting through them. There were other women there, most of whom gave them no more than a passing, disinterested glance.

On that first day Uwe took Anneli, the blonde, into his office and kept her there for some time. When she finally emerged, pale and shaking, Desiree began to feel afraid.

One woman was working a little too slowly for his taste. Twice he chided her. The third time he slapped her, hard, splitting her lip. Finally he took out his pistol and shot her in the back of the head. The two women working alongside her were tasked with dragging her body away, and they left it outside for pickup. By the time they were all excused, late that night, it was gone.

Over the next several days Desiree saw Uwe whip a woman mercilessly with his riding crop simply for breaking a porcelain plate, and shoot a man for walking too slowly—the man wasn't a part of their group, he was with another group, just passing by, but Uwe shot him nevertheless.

Desiree could sense him looking at her, and she tried hard to appear blank, emotionless and unaware of all that was going on around her. She focused as much as she could on the work, but it took every effort to prevent herself from trembling under the clear gaze of those blue eyes.

Finally the day she had been dreading came.

"Du."

She stood up slowly, followed him into his office.

"Sit," he told her, closing the door behind them. She sat on one of the chairs that faced his desk. He sat behind at his desk, opened a drawer, and pulled out a pack of cigarettes, offering her one. She hesitated, but he nodded towards the pack, encouraging her. She took one reluctantly; let him light it for her.

He leaned back in his desk chair and regarded her closely as they both smoked. She tried to keep her eyes down.

"Look at me."

She looked up. He was undeniably very handsome indeed—square jaw, golden blonde hair, tawny skin. That a man so physically beautiful could be capable of such cruelty amazed her—but then this war had come with many surprises.

"You're a beautiful woman," he told her. "I understand you're not a Jew. How did you come to be here? What was your crime?"

"I was accused of smuggling…"

"Only accused? You weren't found guilty?"

Desiree fell silent.

"I thought so. And what is your name?"

"Desiree."

"A beautiful name for a beautiful woman."

He paused then and gazed at her in frank appraisal, assessing her, his blue eyes sharp.

"I need a woman," he finally said. "For sex, yes, but my tastes are unusual. And you're the one I want."

The room was well warmed by a small space heater, but still Desiree shivered.

"Come here," he said, his voice surprisingly gentle. "I won't hurt you—and you may very well enjoy it."

Something in his voice made her shiver even more. She was aroused by that voice, by his presence, something she hadn't expected, and it disturbed her.

"Come here," he said again, and this time the command was clear. Desiree stood up, walked towards the desk.

"No," he said, stopping her. "Here. Next to me."

She walked around the desk and stood next to him. She was trembling all over now, not in fear, but in arousal, which both excited and horrified her.

He leaned back in his chair again, closed his eyes, and inhaled deeply.

"I can smell you," he said, his voice husky. "I can smell your cunt."

Desiree's breath came in harsh, shaky gasps. She had never felt like this before, this heady mixture of terror and arousal, and she could feel herself growing wet. She shut her eyes, held them squeezed shut, as though by eliminating him from her sight she could eliminate his very presence.

She felt his hand move under her dress, gasped aloud when his fingers brushed along her slit, outlining it in all that wetness, then slipping inside her panties, finding her erect clit and stroking it expertly.

"Oh, yes," he breathed, his voice thick, "you like this very much, don't you? Just as I thought you would. I've chosen well, haven't I?"

And when he said that, Desiree realized that he was right, that she liked what he was doing to her, that she wanted it, maybe she'd always wanted it.

He slid two fingers inside her, brought the moisture out and spread it all around her folds. Desiree could hear the slick, slippery slide of those fingers, which only aroused her more. She moaned then, and he growled in response, grabbed her by the throat and forced her facedown onto his desk, pushing up her dress and literally tearing off her underwear. She could hear him fumbling with his belt, heard the sound of his trousers fall, felt his hands on her hips, and she lifted those hips to receive him in a pose so perfectly submissive that he let out a sharp groan of desire.

And then he was inside her, filling her, and it felt right, and she moved back to meet his thrusts. "Gott," he groaned, "ist gut—Ja, gut."

The first smack came down hard against her right buttock, followed by a succession of hard smacks alternating between her buttocks, punctuated by an occasional pause to massage her heated skin. The smacks came harder, faster, the pain blending with the pleasure until Desiree came with a shuddering moan. He stopped spanking her then, drove into her as deep as he could and ground his hips, leaning over to cover her body.

Her buttocks felt as though they were on fire, and the burning intensified with the friction of his hips against them. And then he began nipping and biting her, all over her shoulders, her upper back and her neck, lightly at first and then more sharply as he began to thrust again.

Desiree felt as though she were drowning in a sea of sensation, coming apart somehow, losing herself in all that feeling and then she felt his hand clap over her mouth; he was stifling the screams she hadn't realized had been issuing from deep within her throat.

She came again, in an agony of pleasure, his teeth sunken deep into her shoulder. He followed shortly thereafter, driving deep inside her with a rich moan. She felt him come inside her, felt his hot semen filling her, and she came again.

And then it was quiet, with only the sounds of their harsh breathing as they both came down slowly from that pinnacle of pleasure. As she grew more conscious of her surroundings again, Desiree was suddenly aware of a steady series of soft licks against the bite marks he had left on her, and the gentle swabbing of his tongue felt soothing and somehow tender.

"I've looked for you," he whispered into Desiree's ear. "I've looked for you for so long." And he wrapped his arms under and around her and held her close to him, and she was filled with a sense of tranquility she had never known before. She knew it wasn't love that made her feel this way but something else, something very powerful that she didn't understand, yet she knew she wanted more of it.

Uwe didn't speak to Desiree, didn't even acknowledge her presence for a full week after that very first time together. She was bewildered by this; what had she done wrong? Why was he ignoring her? But just having these thoughts infuriated her. He had used and abused her in every sense of the two words. She should have been humiliated. And yet she wasn't. Indeed, the fact that she craved more of him filled her with the deepest shame.

There were times during that week when Desiree could sense Uwe moving to stand directly behind her, so close that she could feel the heat of his body even through his heavy winter uniform. She knew he was looking down at her, but she didn't dare turn to look at him. Somehow she knew that it was important to give no indication whatsoever that she was aware of his presence, although they both knew she was. She instinctively felt that doing so might disrupt a certain equilibrium being established between them.

But knowing Uwe was there, so close, close enough to touch, close enough to touch her—excited Desiree immensely. The tension between them was exquisite; she always grew wet during these interludes, and she struggled to refrain from squeezing her thighs together under the table. Sometimes she did so unconsciously, and only caught herself when she heard his breathing become more labored behind her. She would stop, then, and wait to hear him step back and walk away.

It took every inch of Uwe's will not to reach out to touch Desiree, to stroke that soft skin on the back of her neck and feel the feathery, dark tendrils that extended down from her close-cropped hair. He savored every moment he stood behind her, knowing that she was aware of his presence and that she was aroused by it. He would listen closely, strain to hear her breathing become more labored. When it was too noisy in the barracks, he settled for watching the increasing rise and fall of her chest.

Uwe ached to touch her, and he knew she ached to be touched by him. When he'd first begun exploring this side of himself with prostitutes, he had been rushed, frantic, almost desperate for the wonderfully raw pleasure it afforded him. Now he knew that taking the time to draw out his desire only made for a much more intense experience, and he was bound and determined to do so with this woman.

One day, Desiree sensed that Uwe was about to withdraw from behind her. But she nearly gasped when instead she suddenly felt the soft drag of his fingertips along the side of her throat. Uwe felt more than heard her sharp intake of breath.

After that, Uwe would rest a hand on Desiree's shoulder when he stood behind her and leave it there the entire time. Then, when he withdrew it, he would once again draw the very tips of his fingers along the side of Desiree's throat, sometimes letting them linger for a moment. Uwe delighted in the shiver that ran through her from this very light touch.

These interludes were brief—they happened once a day, never for more than a few minutes lest they draw too much attention to themselves. But very soon Desiree came to crave Uwe's brief but strangely possessive touch, and Uwe came to crave giving her that touch.

On the seventh day, Uwe's fingers lingered a little longer on Desiree's throat, gently if surreptitiously caressing the very soft skin there. He leaned forward, and Desiree felt his warm breath against her ear as he whispered to her:

"Kommen Sie."

She was surprised by Uwe's use of the formal "Sie" instead of the informal "Du" he always used with the prisoners, but Desiree quickly rose from her chair and followed him into his office. Once he'd closed the door behind him he pulled her back with him until he was leaning against the front of his desk. At that point he placed both hands on her shoulders and pressed her down to her knees. That push wasn't a rough one, but it wasn't gentle, either; it was an unspoken command, and Desiree quickly obeyed.

She could smell the starch in Uwe's uniform, mingled with the scents of tobacco and coffee. He was already hard. Desiree closed her eyes, leaned forward and nuzzled the bulge in the rough cloth. He sighed then, and it was a sound almost of relief.

Uwe wrapped a hand in Desiree's hair to pull her closer, and she rubbed her nose and lips against his erection. At the same time she began running her hands up and down the shiny black boots that held his solid calves. He seemed to like that in the way he caught his breath. His hands returned to her shoulders, urging her down further.

"Kiss them," he whispered.

The freshly polished black leather gleamed, and the scent filled her nostrils. She knelt down further and placed a gentle, almost reverent kiss on each boot, then looked back up at Uwe, her eyes questioning.

Uwe felt a sudden, sharp stab of desire in his belly at the look in her eyes. It was so hungry that it startled him a bit, and he found himself filled with some other nameless emotion when he gazed deeply into those large, dark brown eyes of hers, so perfectly framed by long black lashes.

"I know you want more," he whispered. "I can see how hungry you are."

Desiree planted kisses all over each boot, ran her lips against the strong, smooth leather, inhaled the distinctive, earthy scent. It filled her nostrils and that excited her; she nibbled trails along both boots, each brush of her lips against the leather becoming more ardent than the last.

Desiree stopped suddenly and looked up at Uwe; his sharp blue eyes glittered down at her with a mixture of menace and desire. Her lips parted, and her tongue moved forward ever so slightly, but it was enough.

"Ja," Uwe breathed, "taste it."

Desiree slowly pressed her tongue to and began drawing it along the smooth surface of first one boot, and then the other. At times her lips joined her tongue, and there was nothing more urgent in the world to her at those moments than the sensation of the soft press of her lips and tongue to that thick, black leather. It was as though the rest of the world had vanished, and there was nothing else but those boots and the man who wore them. Time and history had come to a halt. She could feel that soft yet taut leather and smell it; mingled with it was his distinctive male scent of sweat and uniform starch, and she could hear the shared rhythm of their laboured breathing.

She leaned down to kiss the toes of his boots, letting her lips linger for a moment on each one. A soft, low noise issued from deep within Uwe's throat. Desiree looked up as he reached down to grasp and then rub himself through his trousers.

She rose up then until she was facing his groin, and watched and waited patiently while Uwe undid his trousers and pushed them down to reveal his very hard cock. Desiree had felt its thick length inside her but this was the first time she'd actually seen it. Surrounded by soft, golden curls, it was flushed a bright red and arched boldly toward her. The foreskin had retracted completely, and the small slit on the very tip glistened with moisture; beneath it his testicles were drawn taut, perfectly round and deep pink with a light dusting of the same golden hair. With all his virility exposed, he looked unusually beautiful, both strong and vulnerable all at once.

Uwe had never seen a woman look at him with such longing and hunger. He reached out then, and drew a gentle hand across her cheek. He was awed by her complete and utter surrender. It was as though their two psyches, having found each other at last, had immediately aligned and were working in concert with each other, leading the two of them down a single path that both sought but neither could control.

"Kiss it," Uwe whispered, but Desiree did more than that. She took hold of his cock, extended her tongue and gently gathered the sweet yet tart moisture that now coated the tip. She ran her tongue around the head, caressing him, and then took him between her lips. This time the sound Uwe made was unmistakably a soft moan, and he grasped her head with both hands, urging her on.

Desiree took his cock farther into her mouth, caressing it with her tongue. Uwe watched her in wonder, then tightened his grip on her head, pulling her closer. He began lightly pumping his hips.

"Ja," he said, his voice more urgent, "Sehr Schön. Mehr…"

Desiree took him deep into her throat then, until her lips were brushing those soft golden curls at his groin, which so perfectly matched the short, gold locks that now fell lightly across his brow.

Uwe moaned again and his eyes fell closed. At this moment he no longer wanted to see or hear or even catch the scent of sex and sweat that now permeated the room. He wanted only to feel—to revel in the exquisite pleasure of his cock sunken deep into her throat. It was such bliss to be so full of feeling, and when her throat gripped his cock his arousal grew more ferocious. Uwe opened his eyes then, grabbed at and roughly pulled Desiree's hair with one hand, wrapping the other around the back of her soft neck so he could hold her in place. He began fucking her throat, his thrusts both rapid and forceful, and a thrill ran through him as he watched her struggle to keep up with him, choking around his cock as his hips snapped faster with each powerful thrust.

Desiree lost herself in the rhythm of those rough thrusts; she became all lips and mouth and throat, the scent and taste of his solid flesh now the very center of her being. She choked several times but didn't mind—it was ecstasy to be so brutally controlled and taken, to be ravished, and she clutched tightly at Uwe's hips, holding on for dear life.

Uwe's climax was sudden and intense, the sensations both raw and sharp. He pulled Desiree's head so her lips pressed hard against his groin, and spurted deep into her throat with a long, husky groan.

When the last spasms had finally subsided, Uwe opened his eyes to look down at Desiree and found her gazing up at him. Their eyes locked for a moment, and something extraordinary yet incomprehensible passed between them. Uwe could see and feel her surrender and exulted in it. His limbs were heavy with satiation, and yet he was positively buoyant at the realization that he had found a woman whose passions aligned perfectly with his.

Desiree sat back on her heels and waited as Uwe gazed at her in wonder. He reached out a hand to touch her again, but hesitated, and then let it drop.

"Sehr Schön," he said once more. "Now go. Back to work with you."

Although her eyes held a multitude of questions, Desiree obediently rose and left Uwe's office, closing the door quietly behind her. Uwe moved back to his desk and sat down, deep in thought. The encounter had pleased him enormously, but it had also left him feeling strangely unsettled. She was so beautiful, he thought. So completely submissive and yet somehow so powerful. He feared he might lose himself in her. As tempting as it was to do so, he knew she was a prisoner and that the risks were far too great. But he wanted her terribly. He had just had her, yet the need to have her again was already terrifyingly powerful.

When she'd returned to her spot at the sorting table, Desiree quickly resumed her work. But she was shivering violently. Giving pleasure while being denied it had left her nerves in a maelstrom, and she found it very difficult to concentrate. She struggled along for several long minutes. Then she felt a blanket draped across her shoulders. She looked up to see who had done it, but Uwe was already walking away from her.

Later that day, as they were leaving, Uwe loudly ordered one of the other guards to take the blanket from her and return it to him. It was roughly snatched from her shoulders. As Desiree exited with the others, she caught a last glimpse of Uwe; he was carefully folding the blanket as he returned to his office with it.

Things were very different for the next several days. Perhaps afraid of what he'd unleashed between the two of them, Uwe didn't approach Desiree at all and barely even looked at her. He had stopped standing behind her; instead he found new ways to bring her nerves on edge by loudly berating the women to the left and right of her, then lashing out at each one with his riding crop. How could this possibly be the same man who had so gently draped that blanket around her shoulders?

And then one day it seemed as though everything went terribly wrong. The work was slow, and sloppy. Things got broken and Uwe screamed at the women in frustration, lashing out at them again and again with his crop. All of them trembled in fear, and their shaking hands only made their work more difficult.

Suddenly Desiree's friend Jeanne dropped a cup and saucer, and the sound of shattering porcelain resounded around the sorting barracks. Uwe drew his pistol and brought it to Jeanne's temple. But then his eyes caught Desiree's. He saw an entreaty and invitation and surrender in those eyes all at once, and he slowly lowered his gun.

"Du," he said to her sharply, with a snap of his head towards his office. Desiree rose quickly and followed him. Uwe slammed the door behind them and locked it, then whirled around to her.

"Strip," he said. "Now."

Without a word, Desiree lifted her dress over her head. She had been fortunate enough to nick both a bra and panties from the sortings; the guards always looked the other way for objects of such little value.

Desiree shivered under Uwe's heated gaze and watched his breath grow heavier. He lifted his riding crop and drew it carefully along the top of her bra, outlining her cleavage with it. Desiree caught her breath.

"This," Uwe said quietly, "remove it." Desiree removed the bra, then instinctively covered her exposed breasts. She felt the crop before she heard it; then the sting set in and she quickly lowered her arms, exposing her breasts to him. His eyes briefly softened at the sight, and then grew sharp with lust. Slowly but carefully he drew the tip of his riding crop around first one nipple, then the other, drawing them out into hard little buds. Uwe flicked the crop lightly at each erect nipple, then began drawing it down her body. Each slow drag of the crop along brought Desiree's nerves to life; it was as though her skin hungered for the trace of the cool leather against it.

There were points at which Uwe's crop moved lightly, barely touching Desiree's skin as it moved gracefully along her body. There were other times when, as if in counterpoint, the very tip of the crop would press sharply into her flesh, making her start. The crop made its way down her waist to her belly, circled her navel and was roughly thrust into it. Desiree managed to stifle her startled gasp, and Uwe only briefly tore his eyes from the crop's path to meet hers. He was otherwise completely absorbed in the crop's slow movement, almost as though it were controlling him and not the other way around.

Uwe didn't speak, but occasionally a low murmur of pleasure erupted from him at Desiree's response to a particular touch. The evidence that he was as profoundly affected as she was in his deeper, more labored breathing and the growing swell in his uniform trousers.

He reached the top of her panties and ran the crop along their hem.

"Take them off," he commanded.

Desiree obediently pulled down her panties and stepped out of them, kicking them to one side. She flushed and her breathing became ragged as she felt the crop slowly move down, and she nearly gasped when it first brushed against the dark curls around her vulva. A soft glaze now coated the tender lips, and it glistened in the light. Uwe's arousal became more acute at the sight, and he used the crop to roughly nudge the inside of each thigh, forcing Desiree to open her legs wider.

Uwe drew a chair forward and sat down to look more closely at this secret part of her. Her scent was as intoxicating as he remembered from their very first encounter. He had touched and been inside that luscious cunt, but hadn't really taken the time to look at this most precious part of her anatomy, much less thoroughly touch and taste it. Now the desire to do so was almost overwhelming.

Desiree waited for Uwe to run the crop up her slit, and she closed her eyes in anticipation of its touch. Instead of the cool leather, she felt the warmth of his fingers opening and then stroking her. Uwe slowly drew one finger along her slit, then paused to slide it inside her. She was delightfully tight for a woman who had given birth. She gasped and clutched at him, and he moaned softly before he slid in a second finger. Uwe gently drove both fingers in and out of her, pausing only to shift and undo his trousers to better accommodate his arousal. He slid in a third finger and worked her further, then drew back his hand to lick and suck her juices each finger. Gott im Himmel, she tasted incredibly good; he had to have more of her.

Desiree listened to his eager, hungry sounds, and sighed at the sensation of cool air whispering against her damp flesh. Then she very nearly jumped when she felt the press of Uwe's tongue against her. He drew it up her slit, gathering as much moisture as he could with a muffled sight of pleasure. He licked at her lightly, teasingly, until she began to writhe at his touch. Then he pulled back, closed his eyes, and inhaled deeply.

"Such a sweet, sweet cunt," he told her. He sat quiet for a moment, trying to catch his breath. At this point Uwe was struggling to hold his lust at bay. As strong as the urge was to throw Desiree down and simply ravish her, he was determined not to give in to it. At least not yet.

Desiree cautiously opened her eyes to look at Uwe once more. She witnessed his struggle in the sudden shudder that rippled through him as vivid as a lightning bolt. His lower lip trembled, and that startled Desiree. It suddenly occurred to her that there was at least as much power in her submission to him as there was in his mastery of her.

Uwe sat back in his chair, as though to distance himself from temptation, and brought the tip of his riding crop to the very top of the cleft between Desiree's legs. He used it to stroke her clit, gently at first and then with greater purpose when he heard the increase in her already rapid breathing. With his skillful manipulations, Uwe brought her exquisitely and almost painfully close to orgasm; her shuddering breaths turned into soft pants, and he could feel as well as see the tension build throughout her body as he continued his measured strokes.

Desiree was right on the precipice, ready and eager to tumble over into orgasm when Uwe removed the tip of the crop from her clit and began slowly moving it down her slit. Her thighs now trembled in frustration as well as arousal, and Uwe could see that the silken glaze that coated her vulva had spread wider. He slid his crop within and around her folds, reveling in the delicious, sticky sounds of her very wet flesh. Then he brought the tip to her opening and gently probed it inside, teasing her until her hips began moving reflexively to catch more of it. Uwe pulled back the crop then, as though he were threatening to remove it altogether, and a moan of frustration erupted from Desiree's lips.

When he heard that moan Uwe shoved the crop deep inside her and held it there for a moment. Then he began stirring and rubbing it inside her. He knew when he'd found that special spot, and in his stirrings he would suddenly press the tip of the crop against it just to watch Desiree shudder with pleasure. She was unbelievably, gloriously wet now, and Uwe withdrew the crop to gauge the depth of her arousal. He caught his breath as he gazed at the wet leather, then shoved the crop into her once more to continue his stirrings.

Desiree began to writhe and moan more urgently. Uwe instantly removed the wet crop and quickly rose from his chair. Moving behind her, he clapped a hand over her mouth.

"Quiet," he hissed, his voice menacing. "You don't want anyone to come in here and find you like this, do you? All wet and trembling at my touch…" He bit her ear in his passion and she groaned against his hand.

"Shut up or I'll stop," he commanded. "You wouldn't want that, would you?"

Desiree kept quiet as Uwe pushed her towards his desk, shoving her over until her arms and head lay flat against the cool wood. Once again he shoved the crop inside her, this time to fuck her with it, drawing it in and out steadily. By now his cock was straining against his shorts. He reached down to give it a quick squeeze. He mustn't go too fast, he told himself. He should savor every moment, every stroke of his crop inside her, every shudder of pleasure that rippled through her body.

Desiree braced herself against the desk and rocked back and forth to meet each thrust of the crop. Her breath was growing increasingly labored. It was a delicious, teasing kind of torture, this too-thin crop moving inside the very part of her that so desperately needed to be filled.

"You'd like me to fuck you with something thicker and harder, wouldn't you?"

"Oui," she breathed, "Please…"

Suddenly the crop was pulled from her body and Desiree rejoiced in anticipation of Uwe's penetration. She didn't care whether it was his fingers or his cock that entered her, as long as the aching emptiness was filled. There was a pause, and once again she felt a whisper of cool air against her damp mound as she waited—

Desiree felt the sharp crack of that wet crop against her buttocks and she cried out against the hand that now tightly covered her mouth. With each successive snap of the wet crop against her soft skin came a pain far more intense than what she'd experienced when he'd spanked her previously, almost as hot and sharp as the blade of a knife.

Uwe struck her several times in quick succession, on both her buttocks and thighs, each strike harder than the last. Desiree thought it would go on forever when he suddenly stopped and drew the crop against the welts on her inflamed skin, as though he were examining them. Then Uwe returned to whipping her, harder and faster, before once again withdrawing to gently stroke the welts he'd so mercilessly created.

"I like this," he said, his voice husky. "I like it very much. My mark on you."

He repeated this several times, varying it just enough so that Desiree never knew when the switch from violent whipping to gentle caresses would occur. She felt she might be driven mad by it. Unable to anticipate what would happen next, she began to moan again. When the crop snapped against her flesh, those moans were quickly transformed into sharp cries, still muffled by the hand across her mouth. It happened again and again and again, with that same maddeningly unpredictable and erratic rhythm.

Then the crop was suddenly pulled away along with the hand around her mouth. Desiree lay very quiet. She heard the rustle of what she was sure was the removal of his tunic and undershirt, and then the hasp of his zipper and the soft fall of his trousers. Uwe's hands gripped her thighs and roughly parted her legs and at last, at last she felt that merciful shove of thick, hot flesh inside her, and her groan of pleasure turned into a soft wail.

Uwe held very still inside her. That wail had almost brought him to the brink, filled as it was with such joy and surrender. It was almost magical: his manhood inside her again, filling her and possessing her completely. He could feel all of her warmth and wetness and how tightly she clutched him from inside. At that moment Uwe found himself filled with an exquisite thrill that he'd never experienced before. It was the thrill of the hunter who had at last caught his prey, the master who had finally subdued the one wild animal that refused to be tamed. Now he was the one who moaned with pleasure, letting loose his own joyful noise.

He began to move inside her. Gott, she felt good, so very good around his cock—had it ever been this good with a woman before? He couldn't imagine. He'd felt pleasure, certainly, but never so intensely that it seemed to envelop him completely, body and soul.

Uwe gazed down at Desiree as he thrust in and out of her. She had brought her fist to her mouth and was gnawing on it as she moved back to meet his steady thrusts.

"You're so open," he breathed. "You want this. You want this as much as I do, don't you?"

"Oui," she gasped, "I want it."

"I want it, too—I need it," Uwe choked, "I need it badly…"

Desiree once again felt as though her nerve endings were on fire. The welts on her buttocks and thighs burned fiercely when Uwe's body pressed against them. It felt as through her skin was being flayed from her body, ripped off in sharp strips. She should have been frightened, yet she wasn't. Rather than give in to fear she surrendered herself to every hot, sharp sensation, letting them engulf her body and soul as she reveled in at last being able to truly feel something again.

Uwe moved slowly, surely, savoring each wet, hot slide of his hard flesh inside her. Gott, she was tight—how could it be? He'd seen the silvery stretch marks on her belly when she'd stripped. She'd obviously given birth to a child, and yet she gripped him so snugly and perfectly he could hardly bear it. He was immensely excited, so excited he had to stop and hold still inside her. He leaned back then and pulled Desiree up until her palms lay flat against the surface of the desk so he could at last grasp and squeeze her full breasts, and pinch and twist her lovely dark red nipples.

She moaned and trembled at his touch. Uwe brought his mouth back to her ear as he increased his thrusts; he wanted to whisper to her all the filthy things she inspired within him.

"Beautiful, beautiful bitch," he hissed, giving one of her nipples a particularly sharp twist and drinking in her subsequent gasp.

"You like that," he went on. "You like it very much don't' you? You like it when I hurt you…"

Desiree didn't answer, so he leaned over quickly and bit her earlobe once more, eliciting a sharp cry.

"Ja," Uwe breathed, "you like it when I give you pain..."

He kept his thrusts steady, just enough to keep her very aroused but not enough to let her come. Desiree whimpered with frustration. Uwe slowed his thrusts then and leaned back to run the fingers of one hand over her welts. He touched them gently at first, and then pressed against them painfully, eliciting another cry. He repeated the motion, and she cried out once more.

"Oh, you lovely, hot bitch," he groaned in response, his voice thick with passion. " I'm going to make you mine…"

And then Uwe pushed Desiree down against his desk with great force, nearly crushing her breasts against the wood. He leaned over her back, pressing his body painfully against her welts as he thrust harder and faster. He brought his mouth to her throat and nipped at it wildly.

Desiree could feel the boundaries of her body coming apart—it was all too intense, the pain, pleasure, desire and fear intermingled, and it overwhelmed her. So much feeling, all centered around the dizzying pain that seemed to flow and expand into a single heated ache that took shape as a bright color that she could both smell and taste, and that was almost instantly transformed into a pleasure so great that she screamed aloud until a hand was once more clapped over her mouth. Then she felt the sudden, piercing pain of his teeth sinking into her throat, which took her over and into that final delirium.

When Desiree came to shortly thereafter, Uwe was holding her close again, pressing his lips against that painful spot on her throat, his breath hot and heavy against her skin. He had tumbled over into the precipice shortly after she had, and he was still inside her, savoring his final spasms. She could feel his cock throb inside her with each spurt.

Uwe let his tongue drift along the wound in Desiree's throat. He'd marked her now, made her his. He'd never before had a woman who had given herself so completely to him, and he'd broken her skin with the intensity of his bite. He could taste her blood, and he lapped at the wound lightly, then kissed it gently.

Desiree lay quiet, enjoying the surprising tenderness of his tongue. She sighed in contentment. She felt shattered somehow, but at the same time she sensed she was slowly coming back together, and somehow it was in a way that made her feel more whole than she had before.

Uwe's lips moved from the wound on her throat, and once again traced their way back to her ear.

"Good girl," he whispered. "My lovely, good girl. You're mine now..."

And that last bit of Desiree that wasn't yet his gave way, and she let it go willingly.

They met as often as they could after that, in his office, in an empty barracks, in a small storage shed. He would bite her, scratch her, slap her, bruise her and Desiree responded to all of it, experiencing an ecstasy so powerful there were times when she felt as though she had left her body completely. Yet that part had not surprised her. She had always wanted to completely let go. There was pain in all of this, sometimes severe, but with that pain came a pleasure so immense Desiree could barely contain it. It changed her somehow, gave her a strength she'd never had before.

Uwe changed, too. All the fury that had once driven him to be cruel, to kill, had somehow dissipated. As their couplings grew more intense, the summary executions ceased altogether. Oh, he was still capable of great cruelty—one day he flogged a man within an inch of his life—but when the cruelty emerged he would later beg Desiree to hurt him, to slap him, bite him, whip him with his own crop, as though he were acknowledging both his wrongdoings and his need for punishment. It how surprised her how willingly she traded places with Uwe, finding great pleasure in treating him just as roughly as he treated her, eliciting the very same cries of intense pleasure from him that he had brought out of her.

Much of Uwe's cruelty was replaced with kindness. He looked after Desiree, and by extension looked after her friends as well. He brought extra food, made sure that all the women in Canada had warm clothing, and best of all, he made sure they all had real leather shoes, not the wooden clogs common in the camp.

While their sexual encounters remained intense, they didn't always meet alone for that reason. There were times when Uwe called her to his office just so he could talk to her, hold her, kiss her, stroke her hair.

"I am a different man," he told her. "You've made me different. And for that I thank you. I don't feel so much hatred any more; you've brought me peace."

And then he began whispering the words to her, only when in the deepest throes of passion and always in German, never in French, perhaps thinking she wouldn't understand: _ich liebe dich_. Sometimes he would whisper it over and over until he came, and Desiree could feel a new intensity in his climaxes.

At the same time Uwe seemed deeply troubled, and more and more reluctant to indulge in the violence that had marked their couplings from the very start. Desiree, too, was troubled; by her response to him, by the feelings—she refused to call them love—she had for him. She didn't know how to define them because she couldn't define him.

He was a man. He was also a monster. He was her lover. And he was also a killer. He gave her both pain and pleasure and, more often than not, the two seemingly opposing sensations were inextricably bound together. He was a complex knot of contradictions that she felt she'd never be able to untangle.

Then one night everything came to an end. Desiree had been on top of Uwe, very close to coming. He had been slapping her and lifted his hand to strike her once again—but this time he hesitated.

"No more," he hissed. "No more. Enough."

He had pulled her off him, pushed her away, and turned from her. There had been silence then, broken only by Desiree's soft intakes of breath. Finally Uwe had spoken.

"I will not allow you to debase yourself any further," he had said, his voice quiet yet firm.

"I am in love with you," he told her then. "More in love with you than you will ever understand. I wanted you to love me, but that cannot happen."

Desiree had tried to reach out to him then, but again he had pushed her away. He rose and began to dress, tossing her camp uniform to her.

"I won't let it happen," he had continued. "It is because I love you that I won't let it happen.

"I'll arrange for your freedom. I will almost certainly be sent to the eastern front for doing so. But I must do this for you—and in a sense, for myself as well. It may be the only way I can redeem myself."

They both finished dressing, and Uwe turned back to look at Desiree once more, his large blue eyes glistening with unshed tears. He reached out then, touched her cheek, caressed it, then gave her a sad smile.

"I will free you," he whispered. Then he pulled her out of the small hut they had been in and brought her back to her barracks.

Desiree never saw Uwe again. But within a week, she was indeed free. Just as he had always done everything he had ever said he would do for her, Uwe had made that one last thing happen. It was the most important gift he could give her—her life.

_**FIN**_


End file.
